Chapter Twenty-Three
Lizzie hummed as she knocked on the rotting door of the Long residence. Even the fishy smell didn’t bother her today. She’d never felt happier, more alive.
A man shuffled down the shadowed cobblestone street, his hair in disarray, his mouth mumbling to himself. Pity swept through her. He must have come from the docks, where he searched for work. How she hated seeing wretched lives such as his, made even more dramatic by the vast differences in the higher class. In the morning Lizzie awoke in a bed covered with lilac silk, she dined on the freshest cream and the ripest berries. Her clothing was pressed daily, her body washed with fragrant soaps.
But here…
The man continued past, not seeming to notice her standing on the door stoop. Markham’s footman watched him with sharp eyes, though.
Lizzie swallowed and knocked again. Wasn’t anyone home?
She tried the door and found it unlocked. Easing her way inside, anxious nausea weighed heavy in her stomach.
Her first sight was of Annabel, toddling precariously around the unlit fireplace, her tiny feet trailing ashes. Upon hearing Lizzie enter, the baby turned and then dropped to her bottom with a thump. Without even a whimper, she got up and continued her messy exploration.
Lizzie’s smile quickly faded. Was Annabel here alone?
Swallowing the rising lump in her throat, Lizzie crossed the room to the couch against the wall. A huddled lump lay underneath the blanket. The tangled mass of brown indicated that it was Sarah slumbering here.
Was she ill? Lizzie touched her forehead and felt no fever. But Sarah, curled up into a tight ball, released a whimper.
Well, so much for telling Elizabeth and the children of her good news. Now that she was to marry an earl, she’d have the ability to bring this family from this miserable life. Surely she could find work for them. Something for them to do at all of those estates Markham owned.
Lizzie picked Annabel and carried her over to the table, where she proceeded to wipe the soot off her feet. The soft, cuddly baby giggled and clapped her hands.
“What’re ye doin’?”
Sarah was sitting up in the bed, her legs drawn up and arms wrapped around her knees. The girl’s hair had that same wild look as the last time Lizzie saw her. Her eyes had that same fear and sadness lurking in a dark ring.
“I’m here to share some good news. I was hoping to catch your mother.”
The laugh was mean-spirited. “Not yet suppertime, can’t ye tell?”
Lizzie found herself stiffening. “I can’t come here that late.”
Sarah tugged at the nightdress. “Ah, ye wouldn’t want to anyway. Not a good place fer ladies.”
The last word was a sneer and Lizzie nearly rose to the bait. But it was jealousy that propelled Sarah’s anger. “I’m sure it is not a good place to be for anyone.”
“I get along fine,” she answered, with a shrug of her shoulder. “So why don’t ye get back home and leave us be?”
Lizzie reluctantly lowered the squirming baby to the floor. “Are you still so angry with me? You must know that Mar—the earl paid your rent.”
Sarah’s pale face pinched. “Lotta good it did.”
A rush of fear surged through Lizzie’s veins and she fought the closing of her throat. “What-what do you mean?”
Hugging her legs tighter, Sarah turned her face to the wall. “Nothing. ’Tis nothing.”
Lizzie rushed over and sank before her. “What’s happened? Did that man come back? Has he touched you again?”
“It’s nothing, I said. I’m grown now, I ken take care of myself.”
“No. That landlord shouldn’t be near you.”
Sarah’s gaze sliced through her. “He wasn’t.”
Breakfast roiled in Lizzie’s stomach. But anger overwhelmed her horror. “Damn it, Sarah, what happened?”
Wild, dark eyes challenged her. “Ye come and go from ’ere. What gives ye the right to tell me what to do?”
Heat engulfed Lizzie’s face. She thrust her hands on her hips. “You are a child, not some toy for a man’s amusement. There are other ways to help you.”
“Ye know nothing. I’m the oldest, I gotta take care of ’em. Any way I can.”
The rage drained away, weakening Lizzie’s knees. More than anything, she knew what it was like to feel the responsibility of taking care of younger siblings. And she knew what it was like to fail at it. Rachel paid with her life. Sarah just did whatever she could to make sure her family did not meet the same fate.
Lizzie swallowed, her throat tight. “Fine then, don’t tell me. But I’ll do everything in my power to prevent it from happening again.”
Sarah pressed her lips together, turning them nearly white with the pressure. “What’s your news? Did ye steal some gold from the earl to give to us?”
Lizzie set her chin. “No. I’m going to marry him.”
“Marry him? But Mama said ye didn’t want to be like him. Ye wanted to go home.”
“Well…” Yes, she had said that. And she’d meant it too. But so much had changed in these last few weeks. Going back to Edmund would not be following her heart. Markham was the force that pumped her blood, the air she breathed.
Lizzie turned to start cleaning the room. She piled dirty dishes. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m planning on marrying him and when I do I’ll have all of you away from here.”
“To where?”
“I don’t know yet, but anything is better than this.”
“We can manage without ye.”
“No, you can’t.” Lizzie wheeled to face the girl. “Your mother works herself near death, none of you have any education worth noting, I’m not sure this baby has ever seen the sun, and Lord knows what you have been doing recently.”
“Fine.” Sarah leaped to her feet, a skeptical eyebrow arched. “Save us then. Bring us to the country or wherever. But I won’t believe it ’til I see it.”
A hot sting pierced the back of Lizzie’s eyes. “You don’t have faith in me?”
“Once ye marry him you’ll forget all about us.”
“No, I won’t. I think of you all the time.”
Sarah shrugged and crossed the room to pull Annabel from the globe. “Ye can take this back now.”
“But why?”
“No one is ever ’ere to learn.”
“You’re here now. I can teach you now.”
Annabel fussed in Sarah’s thin arms. “Take it. Ye can teach us in our new home.”
No, she wasn’t going to take it now. She and Markham wouldn’t wed for a few weeks yet, so much had to be arranged. Lizzie could come back here now and then before to help. Blast it, she would teach these children. She would save them from this dismal life.
“I’ll leave it. And if you don’t mind, I’ll wait here by the window for the coach to return.”
“Suit yourself.” Sarah carried Annabel back to the table and put her on a chair. Then, without another word, set out to the stove to boil water.
Lizzie sighed and gazed out the small, grimy window. Evening shadows lengthened across the rows of houses and wharves. Day after day this view of the world was all this family had. Even the boys’ occasional crossing into other parts of London did not show them the variety and wonder of England.
She’d bet they’d never smelled a rose in bloom or witnessed a bee pollinating a flower. They had never listened to robins chatter as they searched for worms or ducks quack as they swam under a bridge.
Blast it, she wanted to show them all of it and more. Certainly Markham would not take issue with it. Certainly he’d understand. He’d changed from the reserved, status-conscious peer into a warm, gentle man who loved her.
Lizzie leaned her cheek against the cool glass. Markham did love her, didn’t he?
Lucinda held herself very still, lest she burst. With wary eyes she stared at Edmund Greene. His smug expression irritated her already exposed nerves. Even her own calming boudoir could not soothe them.
Evan was marrying that horrid Miss Parker.
Oh, the formal announcement had not gone out. No, there would be a party for that. But she had ears all over this town and the rumor had reached her just a few days ago.
If this curate did not have the news she sought, Evan would be lost to her forever.
“Out with it.” she snapped.
He lifted an eyebrow and closed the door behind him, locking it. Insisting they speak in a private room, Lucinda had no choice but to bring him to her boudoir where she could shut the door to prying servants.
“I have the information you seek,” he said, now moving closer to where she stood by the window.
“What is it? Why did you not send it in a letter?”
“Two reasons. First, I did not want it to fall into the wrong hands. And second, I had news to bring to Lizzie.”
Lucinda swallowed, her heart beating frantically with anticipation. Could it be that this boy had found something worthwhile? Something to sway Evan to her purpose?
“So, what is it? Tell me.”
The curate folded his arms and leaned a shoulder against the glass. His confident, even arrogant, tone unsettled her. But at this point, with Evan’s impending wedding, she was desperate.
“I am due another payment.”
She narrowed her eyes. “First I deem if what you have is worthy.”
He laughed. The nerve of him. “Oh, it is more than worthy. So worthy, in fact, that we have other arrangements to settle. So worthy, that the old reverend had an apoplexy in effort to keep me from it.”
Lucinda drew back. “Are you saying the man is ill?”
“Quite ill. I’ve come to deliver the news to Lizzie. Her father is now being cared for by several neighbors. He cannot speak and barely moves.”
Lucinda felt a repulsive giddiness well up inside her. She’d never intended for anyone to be physically hurt by this, but this turn of events could only work in her favor. Certainly the young Miss Parker would want to dash right home to care for her father.
But the question remained—would Evan follow her?
“So what is the information? You’ve kept me in suspense long enough.”
A smirk curled Edmund’s lips as he pulled out a slip of paper. He waved it before her. “This is a letter written by the previous Earl of Markham. It tells the tale of the night your beloved was born. He is not who he seems.”
Her mouth dry and pulse thundering, Lucinda snatched the paper. Disregarding the curate’s laughter, she scanned the note herself.
Well, well.
Evan was a bastard. Born after his parents’ marriage, he had no real right to the title. She swallowed, but her throat still ached. What did this mean? Could she, in good conscience, still seek his hand for Lady Harriet? And, how did this have anything to do with Miss Parker?
“You seem startled,” Edmund said. “But I thought you would be pleased.”
“Tell me.” She barely able to regain her composure. “What does this mean for the vicar and his daughter?”
His gaze flickered out the window. “That’s what I wanted to know. So once I found the note, I waited for the Reverend Parker to return and confronted him about it. After shouting and,” he cleared his throat, “a struggle, he admitted that he had been the one to wed the earl’s parents. And he had blackmailed your lover into marrying Lizzie.”
Her pulse skittered with the sudden realization. “So Evan was forced to marry Miss Parker to keep his bastard birth a secret?”
The curate nodded, his smirk returning. “Precious, isn’t it?”
A heady flush of relief swept over Lucinda. Evan didn’t love Miss Parker, he probably wasn’t even attracted to her. He just needed to keep that vital information safe. But now everything was different. Now Reverend Parker was too ill to hold up his end of the blackmail, so Evan was free. And now, Lucinda had this same information.
And she was certainly not above blackmail to get what she wanted. She needed a man to give her a child that her husband’s aged body could not. But she didn’t want it from any man. She wanted Evan’s hands on her body. His seed would give her the son she longed for. A handsome, strong boy with his father’s cool, unemotional demeanor.
But that damn man wouldn’t come back to her with that foolish country girl nearby.
“And so you do deserve the other portion of your payment, Mr. Greene.”
She turned to fetch the coins when his hand clamped on her arm. Her eyes turned back to glare at him. “What is the meaning of this?”
“We have another arrangement to settle first.”
She didn’t like the wicked gleam in his eye. “I’ve told you I will pay you. Do you require more?”
“More, yes. But not more coins.”
Lucinda sighed her annoyance. “Speak your business, Mr. Greene. And remove your hand.”
But he didn’t remove it, he stepped closer, licking his lips. “Right now, only three people are alive and well to keep this secret. The earl, you and me.”
“It seems so.”
His fingertips traced a line down her jaw. She flinched but refrained from slapping him. What he spoke was true. The curate could expose Evan for whom he really was. She needed to proceed carefully.
“You wish for me to keep silent on this information,” he said, his other hand clamping around her waist. “Is that true?”
She stiffened. “Of course. I can offer you more money. A donation, perhaps, to your village.”
He gave a soft chuckle. “We can arrange for that, as well. But right now you have something else that I long for.”
“What gives you the right to—?”
“You used your feminine charms to have me do your dirty work. I am no simpleton, Lady Fallston. And now I’ve come back to seek my prize.”
How dare he? How dare this boy who was hardly a man usurp control over her? He was merely a pawn in her plan. A means to an end.
Lucinda pushed him off and took a step back. “You mean, you plan to blackmail me.”
That mocking laugh again. “Call it what you want. We’re all out here to seek what we want. The vicar, the earl, you, me.”
Miss Parker was the only person not on his list. Did she have no ulterior motive? That just proved she didn’t belong in London. The girl was a lamb to the slaughter.
“All right, Mr. Greene, tell me your terms so that I may move forward with my strategy.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “It should be obvious, my lady. I seek to have you in my bed. I have long been too lonely. And you? Have you been satisfied by your ancient husband?”
No. The marquess could not stay awake long enough to even make an attempt to please her. She’d gone without for far too long, yearning for a man for more months than she cared to count. Soon enough she would have Evan back in her bed.
Edmund’s palms skated up her arms to her shoulders. Then with a wicked smile his rough hands shoved her down onto the soft ivory chaise. Despite herself, a sharp burn raced through her veins, pebbled her nipples, dampened between her legs.
He lowered himself over her, his ravenous eyes devouring her in a way that she had not seen in too lengthy a time. Goose bumps sprouted on her skin even as her body blazed.
It wasn’t this boy that she wanted. No, it was Evan. A real man. A lover like no other. And yet, as she waited and waited for Evan to return to her, she still hungered for fulfillment.
The curate squeezed her breasts, tasted her neck. Evidence of his lust dug into her thigh. Lucinda moaned, unable to keep herself from enjoying his touch.
“I knew you would see things my way,” he murmured against her ear.
But Lucinda wasn’t doing this for him. Let the boy think what he wanted. This was for her. Everything was for her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lizzie paused outside the study door, her hand on the knob. Markham loved her. He must. After all, he wanted to marry her. Somehow she must have changed his opinion of her, broken through his detached wall of withheld emotio
ns.
Still, the concern lingered in her heart. How could he change so quickly? What possessed him to want her, a simple country girl, as his countess?
She must find a way to have him admit his love. Thoughts of their night together in the gardener’s cottage tickled that warm spot in her belly. He was so tender that night, so careful of how he treated her. The endearment “my love” had even slipped from his lips. Could she get him to repeat it? Could she get him to give up control, allow her to govern him?
Lizzie crept quietly into the study, securing the door closed without a sound. Now was her perfect chance. She stood for a moment, watching Markham as he bent across his desk reading over several papers stacked neatly in a pile before him.
His midnight hair fell forward, brushing his forehead with uneven waves that even he could not control. Without a waistcoat or coat, Markham’s white shirt lit up like a brilliant light in the shadowed red room.
Lizzie held her breath, taking another step forward as he scribbled something on paper. She thought to discuss the engagement party with him, to see if he would dispatch his carriage to retrieve her father. But he looked so beautiful now, with the sun gleaming in from the window to create a halo around his form. Yes, this would be the perfect opportunity to determine if Markham could give up his barriers, allow her power over him.
Memories arose of him sinking between her thighs, scorching her skin with desire. Even now her petticoats felt hot against her flesh, her corset suffocating.
She licked her lips. Markham had not allowed her to explore much of him that night, feasting on her only, ripening her body like a flower to the fruit. Now it was her turn. Her turn to discover the texture of his flesh, the taste of his skin. Her turn to take control.
So deep in concentration was he, Markham did not look up until she stood beside his chair.
A surprised light gleamed in his black eyes. “Good morning. Do you need something?”
Oh, she needed something. Her blood hummed. Wickedness enveloped her. With a few purposeful bats of her eyelashes, Lizzie slid his chair back from the desk. Markham curled those enticing lips, waited for her next move without a word.
A Tarnished Heart Page 22